Issue
by MillionMoments
Summary: Part 3 of the Succession series, picks up where Properly left off.
1. 4 Weeks

Title: Issue

Rating: T

Category: AU, Richard/Camille, Romance, Humour, Family

Summary: Third in the "Succession" sequence, picks up where "Properly" ended.

A/N: You will need to have read Succession and Properly to understand this. This story will use the character of Prince Edward quite heavily and I say character because though he is a real Prince this is in no way an RPF story. I know very little about him or his personality, and chose him simply because he studied History at Cambridge and did used to film documentaries about it. Everything else is entirely made up and hopefully I will not get sued.

Chapter One: 4 weeks

* * *

From Properly:

_As his mother was leaving she paused to add, "Just think, perhaps next time we come to Saint Marie it'll be to meet Viscount Ipswich!"_

_Richard more than a little embarrassed by his mother's comment, but Camille was smiling politely and nodding. Once his parents were out of ear shot (about 5 metres given how noisy the party was) Camille turned to him and asked, "There is some sort of Viscount coming to live on the island?"_

_Oh, well, that explained her lack of embarrassment – she hadn't actually understood what his mother had been saying. He smiled, somewhat ruefully, and told her, "No, my mother was taking the opportunity to remind us of her desire for grandchildren. Viscount Ipswich would be the title given to our first born son."_

_Camille gave him a long look, before saying firmly, "I don't like that."_

* * *

After her little pronouncement, which was not what Richard had expected in the slightest, Camille had turned neatly on her heel and stormed off. There was a time when Richard would have thought this meant he should her alone until she had calmed down, but he had rapidly learnt that she always expected him to follow her and makes amends. Except on this occasion, he couldn't quite figure out what he had done wrong. He therefore allowed himself a few moments to wrack his brain, but when he continued to remain clueless, he hurried after her. He located her in a relatively quiet corridor of the hotel where the reception is being held. She was visibly upset.

"Camille!" He cried, distressed by the fact he had somehow reduced his wife to tears on their wedding day. "What is it?"

"It's just," she sniffed, attempting to get her emotions under control. "I didn't realise that our child would get the title from birth, you know. I thought it was something that they weren't entitled to until they were 18."

"Right." Richard was glad Camille was talking to him, but he couldn't quite figure out what the problem was yet. Eventually he was forced to ask, "You feel this will make a difference?"

"Yes!" Camille replied, her voice increasing in volume. She seemed annoyed he didn't understand her issue. "Of course it does. Don't you see? You never expected to be a Duke one day, but if the child knows from a young age what they are going to eventually be it could, could, give them some sort of complex!"

Richard decided it was best not to point out that Camille was accusing some members of his family of 'having a complex', firstly because he was sure that wasn't what she was trying to do and secondly because he wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that. "Well, I mean, they would know their Grandfather was a Duke and I was an Earl irrespective of when the title is granted, so…"

"Yes, but there _is_ a difference if people are _calling_ them Viscount Ipswich! That will give them a feeling of entitlement!" The tears were back, and he was starting to panic. Suddenly, there was an awkward clearing of the throat from further down the corridor, and to Richard's horror HRH Price Edward appeared from around the corner. The man looked about as embarrassed at having been forced to witness the exchange as Richard felt about him having heard it.

"Excuse me, Madam, I had stepped out here to make a phone call and I couldn't help but overhear. You do rather have the sort of voice that carries, especially when upset…" He might be a member of the royal family, but that didn't mean he wasn't spared Camille's glare. Having been exposed to it on many occasions himself, Richard winced in sympathy. Prince Edward took it rather well, clearly his throat again and bravely continuing. "As somebody with children who have titles, I thought I might be able to offer you a little reassurance."

He placed a hand on the small of Camille's back and gently guided her to the doorway of the ballroom where the majority of the guests remained, "Now you see that small boy, there, the one my dear wife is trying to clean up because he has somehow managed to get more cake on his face than in his mouth? And my daughter, Louise, who is dancing with that gentlemen who I believe is on your own police force and his daughter?" Camille nodded silently. "Do they look like they even realise they are ninth and tenth in line for the thrown?"

"Well, no, not really," Camille admitted.

"I can assure you that they act like any other child," the Prince told her kindly. "Sophie worried in much the same way you did, and perhaps you would like to consult with her on the matter, but I really don't think there is any need to distress yourself so - even if I do understand your concern."

Camille looked up at Prince Edward, obviously relieved, and Richard found himself more than a little jealous that the man had managed to comfort Camille where he had failed. He added, largely in an attempt to feel useful, "Besides, we may have all girls anyway!"

"Well that would also solve the issue!" Prince Edward agreed cheerfully. "And you know little girls _are_ wonderful, though slightly more demanding than boys in my experience…" Once again the Prince trailed off after he received a sharp look from Camille, one that was then turned in Richard's direction.

"What do you mean?"

"Well Louise tends to be a bit more fussy-"

"No!" Camille interrupted rudely. Richard winced again and hoped the Prince would be willing to forgive her. "Not that! What do you mean by the problem being solved by us only having girls?"

"Because they wouldn't inherit the title," Richard explained.

"What?"

"The Dukedom is passed down the male line," he continued, uncertain how this fact could have escaped Camille.

She looked at him aghast, "But, but what about that law your Father spoke about! The Succession to the Crown Act, 2013!"

He shared a quick glance with Prince Edward, "That law only applies to the UK throne. The Duke of Grafton is a peerage and is thus subject to entirely different rules of succession."

"In fact each peerage may have very different rules of succession, depending at what point the peerage was created, though the majority are just inherited through the male line," The Prince added.

Camille stared at the two of them, and it wasn't hard to work out she was unhappy. Her next words confirmed this, "So you are telling me that if we have a girl, followed by a boy, the boy will inherit the title and everything and the poor girl gets nothing? What is this, Pride and Prejudice?"

Richard felt the comparison was a little unfair, not that he would ever say that, "Of course not, I am sure we would make provisions for all of our children in our will no matter what gender they were!"

"I don't think it's fair!" She argued back. "Why shouldn't the girl inherent the Dukedom?"

Prince Edward surprised them both by chiming in, "I quite agree actually, and so would my Mother. You know, I do believe there is no reason why the Dukedom should _have_ to carry on being inherited down the male line."

They both turned to look at the Prince enquiringly now, and he continued, "Well, if Richard here could get his father to agree I could have a word with my Mother who I am almost certain would sign off on an official decree. She was a great supporter of the Succession to the Crown Act, if I tell her how passionately you feel I think she would sympathise entirely."

And there HRH went again, being the hero. Camille turned to Richard and asked hopefully, "Would your father agree?"

"My mother would make him agree, even if he didn't," Richard told her with a small smile. She looked relieved, but he could still tell she was worried. She really was getting herself worked up unnecessarily, he wished he had thought to have this conversation with her sooner. "Honestly, Camille, despite what our Mothers might want we don't _have_ to have children straight away. I mean we've potentially a good couple of years to talk through all your worries and sort out the succession issue." Camille gave a small shake of her head in response. "We don't have years?" He asked, puzzled, before realisation struck. "_You're pregnant?!" _

She didn't confirm it, instead shot a sideways glance at Prince Edward. His Royal Highness was looking rather embarrassed again. "Ah," he began. "I shall call my Mother tomorrow. And I shall also leave you alone and go help my wife wrestle the children into bed." As he was leaving he gave Richard a friendly pat on the shoulder, which he interpreted as his way of congratulating him.

"How long have you known?" He asked as soon as the Prince was out of ear shot.

"Only a couple of weeks!" She said sounding more than a little defensive. "I was going to tell you tonight, you know, as a wedding present. I thought it would be a nice surprise!"

He didn't reply to that, he was still trying to process the information. They hadn't actually decided on where to live yet, and now they were going to need somewhere that was big enough for the three of them. Then there was his mother to contend with, if she heard Camille was pregnant before she left she may insist on staying on the island for the whole pregnancy. Police officers weren't entitled to maternity leave, so he would need to check when the ISAs he had were due to mature and consider spending some of those to make up for their loss of earnings. He didn't really want to take any money from his parents. Oh, and the Christening, they hadn't discussed what religion to raise any children. If she agreed to Church of England would they need to go all the way to England to have the baptism? Should he learn French so raising the baby bilingual would be easier? Should they hire a nanny, or send the child to day care? Of course that was presuming that Camille did want to return to work…

"Richard!" Camille said urgently, waving a hand in front of his face. The worried look was back, and once she was certain she had his attention she asked hesitantly, "It _is_ a nice surprise, right?"

Richard shook himself out of his revere and realised with a pang of guilt he should really have said something positive in response by now, he was such an idiot. He pulled Camille close to him and told her sincerely, "Yes, it's wonderful, just a little unexpected. You know how I always overthink things, I just mentally started listing all of the things we have to do!" He pulled back to kiss her on the forehead, then smiled down at her – she smiled back.

"There _is_ a lot," she agreed. "But you are so efficient I think we might just cope."

"We'll do better than just cope, we're going to be brilliant!" After a pause, he added, "Ok, I'll try my best but you will be brilliant and thus make up for all of my short-falls."

"Don't be so negative," Camille chided him. "I think you are going to be a wonderful Father. And you _know _I'm always right."

Actually, they both knew she _wasn't_ always right – but Richard sincerely hoped she would be on this occasion.


	2. 8 weeks

Chapter 2: 8 Weeks

A/N: Many thanks to Willowsticks, who knows so much about titles and inheritance that I suspect she is a member of the nobility. I have narrowed it down to….not the Countess of Wessex. Actually the first part of this fic does discuss peerages quite a bit…

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Camille became practically the caricature of a pregnant woman. She was volatile, she was regularly being sick and she was exhausted. As a consequence, though very few people knew, everybody _knew_. They were just polite enough not to say anything until whenever they decided to make the official announcement. Richard was forced to tell his parents earlier than he would have liked in order to sort out the changes to the inheritance of the title. They were suitably delighted, and every time he rang hoping to talk to his father about the inheritance issue he would find himself stuck on the phone to his mother, who he swore could somehow talk for 40 minutes non-stop without taking a breath.

One day he finally got through to his Dad, who listened patiently as Richard recounted the story of how he had discovered Camille was pregnant, and her fears and concerns about the whole thing.

"But they _would_ be titled Lady," his Father pointed out. He was not necessarily objecting to changing the Dukedom so that it could pass down the female line (nobody in the family really wanted cousin Barry to inherit). What he was doing was quite rightly pointing out was that Richard had gotten the facts a bit wrong in his conversation with Camille.

"I didn't really think about that," Richard admitted. "I was just desperate to calm Camille down about the whole 'having a title might warp their upbringing' fear. I do still think she is going to want the Dukedom to go to the first born regardless though…"

"Well," his father began. "That does seem like the modern thing to do, doesn't it? Though it is highly unlikely you'll need it. There hasn't been a Poole female since, oh let me see, your Great-Great-Great Grandfathers sister, Lady Elsbeth."

Richard looked around furtively, but his wife was not in ear shot, "Yes, Dad, about that. I haven't exactly mentioned to Camille about the tendency of the family to have all boys because I think she is quite keen on having a girl one day and given her current, uh, emotionally heightened state I don't think it is the best time to mention it. I'm rather hoping it is all a coincidence."

They then spent a happy few minutes working out the actual chances of his great-great grandmother having 5 boys, great-grandmother 6 boys and grandmother 2 boys. It came out at about 0.000122, which Richard was forced to concede meant something else might be going on. The only theory he had was that the Poole Y Chromosome may be smaller than average, making the male sperm considerably faster swimmers than their female counterparts. It was not a theory he was willing to share with his Father though.

Richard decided he better bring the conversation back round to the whole succession issue, as he didn't think Camille would be very pleased if when she asked him he admitted all he had achieved was calculating some probabilities with his Father.

"I think Edward is right about Her Majesty allowing this to happen. She did take the Baron Howard de Walden out of abeyance to grant it to the current Lady Howard de Walden," His Father said thoughtfully. "I wonder if any other peerages will follow suit."

Richard and his Father got a little stuck on the problem of the title that would be granted to the husband of any potential Duchess. Richard was pretty certain that Camille would expect them to be called a Duke, but there didn't seem to be any precedent for this – the husband of Lady Howard de Walden had his own title inherited from his father. It seemed likely the decision would be made by the Queen, and it would be that the consort had no title. Richard did not look forward to telling Camille this.

* * *

"That's fine!" Camille said cheerily as she unpacked one of his boxes. They had decided to move into her place for now, because it had a spare room in case the baby arrived before they could find anywhere more suitable. Richard had managed to catch her in a good mood (which could turn violent at any moment given her recent mood swings) and so had told her the current plan to date.

"You're fine with that?" He asked, a little surprised. He had expected her to object vehemently, burst into tears or throw something at him whilst claiming their daughter's husband should have as much of a right to a title as their son's wife. In fact, so convinced was he of that occurring he had checked the box she was unpacking only contained clothes and nothing heavy that could do any damage. He probably shouldn't question her quiet acceptance, and instead just be thankful for it.

"If it were up to me and we had a boy, their wife wouldn't get a title either! I don't like the idea of somebody just marrying them in order to become a Duchess!" Camille was right to be wary of that occurring, as it had almost happened to Richard and she knew this.

"I'm pretty certain you will thoroughly vet every person who shows even the remotest interest," Richard told her. "And for as long as my Mother is around she will be doing the same." Camille just shot him a smile in response to indicate he was right on that front.

"Right," he said, rather pleased. "I guess we are just waiting on Prince Edward now!" In the few interactions he had had with the Prince since the wedding, Richard hadn't dared ask how things were going with his side of negotiations.

* * *

A few days later, Camille half skidded into the kitchen and shouted, "I can smell toast! God, do you think that means there is something wrong?"

The high state of anxiety she was suffering was relatively new, though the books that had appeared all over the house on pregnancy did assure Richard that many women suffered in a similar way to Camille. However her concerns about smelling toast had left Richard a little flummoxed.

"I, um, well, I just made toast – that is why you can smell it," he said, he chose his words carefully – didn't want to give the impression that he thought she had gone completely mental. Though on some level he was starting to consider the possibility. "Also if I hadn't, I don't think smelling toast is a symptom of anything…"

"Oh that explains it then," she said, seeming much calmer. "Why are you making toast, I thought you had breakfast?"

Yes, he had, and this was the other reason Richard was a little concerned, "Um, you asked me to make you some toast."

"Did I?" She said, frowning and looking like she was trying to recall the incident.

"Yes," Richard continued. "About 2 minutes ago…"

"Oh," Camille said as she sat at the table and accepted the plate of (dry) toast from him. "Well I am a bit hungry and this does normally settle my stomach." She began to nibble on it, but Richard suspected she didn't actually want it anymore she was just trying to cover up her embarrassment at having forgotten she requested it in the first place.

There was a knock at the door. They weren't expecting anyone so it was probably Catherine – one of the few people who 'officially' knew about Camille's condition. Richard went to answer it, but to his surprise it was Prince Edward.

"Your Highness!" He said by way of greeting.

"You know, Richard, you are welcome to call me Edward."

The idea made Richard very uncomfortable, but he knew it would be far ruder to refuse the offer, "Well, thank you, Edward. Um, please, do come in."

Richard was going to bring Edward into the front room, then he remembered that Camille had been in a _very_ good mood the evening before and he wasn't certain if they had picked up all the clothes…he therefore had no choice but to lead the man into the kitchen. Perhaps he would want some toast…

Camille stood up promptly when Edward entered the kitchen and looked conflicted about attempting a curtsy when she didn't actually have a skirt on. Edward smiled at her kindly and said, "Please, Madam, sit down and don't let me disturb you."

Camille opened her mouth, presumable to thank the prince, but before she could she went suddenly very pale, doubled over and threw up the toast she had just consumed…over Edwards's feet.

"I threw up on your shoes!" She said faintly, still bent over. When she straightened Richard thought he had never seen her so distressed. "I'm _so_ sorry!"

Edward was really rather magnanimous about it, "You know Sophie did that during both her pregnancies, and the Duchess of Cambridge as well, so being vomited on by pregnant woman is practically tradition…"

Camille didn't take any comfort in this, instead she burst into tears, "I THREW UP ON A PRINCE'S SHOES!" She wailed. Edward shot Richard an alarmed look, and he stepped forward to try and placate his wife. When he went to hug her she shoved him off and went running from the room. A short while later they both heard the bathroom door slam shut. Richard thought on this occasion, he might leave her to calm down a bit.

"I'll just get a cloth to clean your shoes," he told Edward, hunting under the sink for something appropriate. "Please do sit down."

Edward took the cloth from him, even though Richard had been going to offer clean the shoes himself, and wiped them down as he said, "You really must assure your wife I am not offended. I am sure she did not intend to vomit on my shoes. Is her morning sickness particularly bad?"

"I think _every _symptom of her pregnancy may be particularly bad. Just before you arrived she came in panicking because she could smell toast, and had no recollection of having just asked me to make her some," he confided in the prince. He was desperately hoping to hear he was not the only one whose wife started acting a bit crazy during pregnancy.

"Ah yes, bit early for 'baby brain' as I've heard it called but not entirely unusual. Once Sophie asked me to arrange croissants for breakfast, and I double checked because they aren't her usual choice, but she was insistent. When I presented them to her she burst into tears because it wasn't _pain au chocolat_ like she had actually wanted…" They shared a small smile. Now Richard knew they could bond over suffering at the hands of pregnant wives, he didn't feel as awkward about calling or thinking of him as Edward anymore.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked, realising he didn't actually know why Edward was here.

"Actually," the prince started, looking around before gingerly disposing of the cloth in a bin he spotted. "I believe it is I who can be of assistance to you."

Richard could guess what that meant, "You've spoken to Her Majesty?"

Edward smiled, "My Mother is perfectly willing to sign off on a decree allowing the Dukedom to be inherited by the first born, no matter what the gender."

Richard was immensely relieved. "That's wonderful," he told Edward sincerely. "Camille is going to be extremely pleased." When she eventually leaves the bathroom, he thought to himself. "I don't know how to thank you!"

"Well, Sophie, the children, the crew and I will be heading over to Dominica next week to carry out some official duties as well as doing filming there. You really should join us for dinner before we leave. If Lady Poole's stomach is up for the occasion, of course."

"Well, so far her morning sickness has just been confined to the morning so we should be able to manage dinner." Richard informed Edward, then decided he better add, "Though I can't guarantee she won't burst into tears for some inexplicable reason…"


	3. 9 weeks

Chapter 3: 9 Weeks

A/N: A special thank you to Virginie31 who provided me with advice on nutritional guidelines for pregnant women in France.

* * *

"Richard, I know it's a French restaurant, but surely there is _something_ on the menu you like. And if there isn't, well you have been studying it for days now, it isn't going to change. You'll just have to pick whatever you dislike least." To her own ears, she sounded weary, and the concerned glance she received from her husband let her know she probably sounded exhausted to everyone else as well.

He stood and offered her the chair he was using, and before she started to protest about him babying her he said, "I want to show you something, come on, I'm not staring at the menu for me - it's for you."

"Because an Earl's wife can't choose her own meal?" She asked as she lowered herself down onto the chair, studying the menu. "Because if that is the case, it is a social protocol you are going to have to learn to live without."

"No, of course you get to pick what you want to eat, it is just your options seem to be a bit limited."

Camille could count the number of foods she disliked on one hand, unlike her husband who could fill a 10,000 page book full of gripes, dislikes and aversions he had concerning various foodstuffs. So she wasn't really sure what he was talking about. "I can already see half a dozen things on this menu I like Richard!"

"Like what?" He asked.

"Well, here, first main course – _Coq au vin_," she pointed out.

"But that is made with wine!" He cried, looking horrified she would even consider it. Camille could only conclude he was worried about the alcohol.

"The majority of the alcohol will be cooked off," she tried to reassure him.

"But not necessarily all of it! There must have been good reason for them to change the pregnancy guidelines to no alcohol at all, Camille," he argued right back. Camille decided to just consider it sweet that he was concerned about the baby, and pick something else to eat.

"Oh well, then, how about…" She had been about to just suggest the next thing on the list, but realised it contained brie that was likely to be made from unpasteurised milk. Several other items on the list of main courses were out for the same reason. "Ok, well I won't eat anything cheesy, oh and the pates aren't an option either…I never realised how pregnancy unfriendly French cuisine could be. But surely I can have _Steak-frites_?"

"Not the way the French cook meat!" He protested loudly. "Your version of well done is still mooing!"

"Richard, don't be ridiculous, I can just explain that I am pregnant and I am sure they will cook the meat thoroughly."

He crossed his arms and blew out a long breath, clearly unwilling to accept that as true, "Oh please, all French waiters are rude! You'll be expected to take the meat as it comes!"

If Camille wasn't so stupidly tired, they would probably have a massive fight about his unacceptable stereotyping of French waiting staff about now. A fight she was pretty certain she would actually win. But she _was_ stupidly tired, so instead she reminded herself he was doing this only because he cared, gritted her teeth and said calmly, "They can be a little brusque, but not usually to the point where they endanger the lives of unborn children."

He deflated a little, but apparently had a bit of fight left in him, "I did find something that is definitely safe."

She decided to humour him, though she knew she would be stubborn and order _Steak-frites _no matter what. "Oh?"

"Onion soup!"

"Onion soup?" She repeated faintly.

"Yes, I know they sometimes put brandy or some other alcohol in, but I called the restaurant and their recipe doesn't use that!" He told her proudly.

"You want me to go out to dinner, in a nice restaurant with an award winning chef, and just eat onion soup?" The anger she had tried to temper earlier was rising up again, and this time she didn't think she could control it.

The steel in her tone made him wary. "Well, um, you _do_ like onion soup," he offered.

"Not. That. Much." And then, simply because the other option was to throw the laptop at him, she stormed out of the room and locked herself in the bathroom the calm down. Camille knew, deep down, she was overreacting due to hormones – and he was overreacting due to neurotic fears.

There was a good chance she was going to kill him before this pregnancy was over.

* * *

Richard, sensibly, came and apologised for attempting to limit her meal to just onion soup about ten minutes later. After letting him grovel for 5 minutes, she let him in. Then, in a move that surprised her almost as much as it did him, pulled him down onto the bathroom floor to make love. Perhaps those pregnancy hormones would keep him alive after all.

"I'll have the onion soup as a starter," she told him, as she lay curled up in his arms – neither of them had found the energy to move from the floor yet, even though it wasn't particularly comfortable. Her statement had meant to be a further peace offering, a compromise, but Richard looked at her blankly. Apparently the sex had entirely driven their earlier conversation out of his mind. "At the restaurant," she reminded him.

"Oh right! Well you have whatever you want, I trust you to pick things that are safe for our baby."

She couldn't resist the temptation to tease him a little, "Well in that case the _pâté de foie gras_ looked pretty amazing."

She noticed his grip on her tightened slightly, wondered if he was considering just locking her up to be able to control her diet. "Yes, I suppose that is an option. Though, um, the liver in the _foie gras_ will contain very high levels of retinol which can be damaging to foetal development. And pate presents a risk of listeria infection. You know, just want you to have, um, all the facts when you make your choice."

He was a moron for thinking she had been serious, and she hit him hard on the chest to make that point. "I'm joking Richard! I did know both those things already. Besides, I don't even like _foie gras_."

* * *

Camille took her time picking an outfit. It had nothing to do with their dining companions – any hope she had of impressing the Earl of Wessex and his wife went out the window the second she threw up on the former's shoes. No, she was considering her options carefully because she knew it wouldn't be long until most of these dresses didn't fit. Standing before the wardrobe, she glanced down at her stomach and frowned. She was sure it was rounder than it used to be, but it was probably paranoia because she was far too early on to be showing. Of course it could be actual fat rather than baby related, she had started eating far more than she used to. She couldn't help herself, she was starving all the time. Richard looked like he had actually lost a couple of pounds, probably due to her stealing food off his plate.

She only actually owned three really nice dresses, suitable for the sort of place they were dining at. She'd been a little tempted to go out and buy a new one for the occasion, but Richard's practicality must be rubbing off on her as she felt she couldn't justify the expense when there was a chance she would never fit into the thing again. With a small sigh, she selected something sleek and strappy – a personal favourite and one Richard had always rather enjoyed taking off as well.

* * *

Camille, despite her best efforts to just relax, was increasingly nervous. She had assumed she could just sit next to Richard and let him do most if the talking, since he and Price Edward seemed to have rather hit it off at some point. It was on the way to the restaurant Richard had told her that sitting next to your spouse wasn't really the done thing. Apparently the entire seating arrangement had been planned ahead of time, something he had not thought to tell her. She would be sitting next to Prince Edward's secretary on one side and the Mayor of Honore on the other, and opposite the Countess of Wessex and her daughter Lady Louise. Further panic then ensued when Richard started explaining how she should approach her chair from the right, as whoever was to her left would help her be seated.

"One, I can seat myself and two, could you not have told me this a little earlier? You made it sound like some sort of family dinner, a small affair not something so formal!" She could use a drink, but the stupid pregnancy meant that was out of the question.

"I think that was the original intention, but you know what the Mayor is like. He wanted a proper send off!" He explained. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier Camille, you're such a natural you know I sometimes forget you weren't born to it." Richard said this with his best smile, clearly hoping to flatter his way out of trouble. "Also, did I mention how beautiful you look?"

Camille decided to let it slide, for now.

* * *

"Louise, you remember Lady Poole," The Countess of Wessex said to her daughter. Camille cringed.

"Oh no, please, call me Camille," she insisted immediately. She didn't think she would ever get used to "Lady Poole". They'd used it at the dentist of all places the other day, causing everyone in the waiting room to stare at her.

"You have bare shoulders," Louise pointed by way of greeting. Camille frowned, unsure why this was of interest to the girl, and seeing her confusion Louise continued, "Not really proper protocol to have bare shoulders when with Royalty."

"Louise!" Her mother berated her, looking mortified by her daughter's behaviour. Camille was rather embarrassed, she had previously looked up that very fact about dress codes and applied it to when Richard's parents were visiting. Her own wedding dress had covered her shoulders for that very reason. And she had instantly forgotten it, all because she wanted a chance to wear something she wouldn't be able to for the foreseeable future! Richard was going to be in serious trouble when they got home, he should have told her.

"It's okay Mummy," Louise insisted. "I'm not judging Camille, she is very new after all. What she needs it somebody to give her lots of nice advice on Royal protocol, and I think I am just the person for the job! I have previous experience you know, with Kate."

"She means the Duchess of Cambridge," The Countess explained, seeing Camille's blank look.

Camille had to admit, she rather liked Louise's confidence. And it was obvious the girl was actually trying to be kind. "Well I could certainly use a few tips," She conceded. "Though I am not sure how often I will put them to use here on Saint Marie."

"Yes but you'll need to know these things when you're presented to court," Louise told her firmly.

"I, um, they still do that? I thought it stopped."

"You are probably thinking of debutantes being presented to court, a practise that has now been abolished," Sophie explained. "I believe my dear daughter is referring to the fact that on your first trip to the UK you will be invited to court to meet Her Majesty and others."

For some reason, this eventuality had not occurred to Camille before. Considering the _faux pas_ she had made with both the Duke of Grafton and the Earl of Wessex, should could only imagine how catastrophically she could mess up in a room full of Royals and aristocrats. The Prince's secretary, who had been listening politely to the conversation, must have seen the colour drain from her face because he hurried to pour her a glass of water.

"I am sure everyone will be delighted to meet you, Lady Poole," he told her kindly.

"I will tell them all you are very nice, and pretty, and like Beyoncé so clearly have good taste in music," Louise offered. "Plus I am happy to continue to offer advice during dinner."

"I think," Camille said carefully. "That may actually be a good idea."

* * *

"Louise took to you like a house on fire," Richard said in the car on the way home. He, being allowed to drink, had done so merrily and was in a rather jolly mood as a consequence. "Seeing you two whispering away to each other, made me sort of hope we have a girl. Mind if James had been sat near you I bet you would have charmed him equally and I'd be saying how much I want a boy!"

"Louise was offering me advice on Royal etiquette, which God knows I need since you keep forgetting to do so," Camille was not in such a good mood. She _had_ enjoyed her chat with Louise and the Countess (who had insisted she call her Sophie) but she _hadn't_ forgotten Richard had failed to point out the issue with her dress beforehand. Or had told her of the seating arrangements rather late in the day. Her bad mood with him was probably largely brought on though by him being a bit drunk, and her feeling distinctly nauseous as the car bumped along.

"Oh Camille, it's not like we were at court," he said dismissively. "I'll make sure you are fully prepared when that day comes!"

"Yes, thank you for telling me I would be _presented_ to the Queen by the way. So nice to hear that from my husband, as opposed to having my ignorance highlighted by a ten year old girl!"

Richard remained silent, realising at last just how annoyed she was. He was probably feeling hard done by, but Camille didn't care. Didn't he remember what it was like when he suddenly found himself an Earl? And that was growing up in a family where his uncle was a Duke, so he had some idea about how the whole thing worked. She'd been thrust into this world without any of that prior experience, and she'd done it because she loved him and it was part of the package that came with marrying him.

"Camille, they are leaving tomorrow and after that we can essentially just go back to being police officers, and parents expecting their first child. I'm sorry…I…I'm sorry marrying me means you have to put up with all of this." He did look genuinely upset.

"It's not a case of putting up with it, Richard, I'm sure once I get the hang of everything I'd probably enjoy it more than you do. I just need a little help getting things right. There was once a time I was the one who advised you on social matters and human interactions, with all these rules you are used to I know now why you needed those lessons. Time for a bit of role reversal, I think."

He reached across and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. Camille knew they'd be okay.


	4. 12 weeks

Chapter 4: 12 Weeks

* * *

"Will you be finding out the sex of the baby?" His mother asked him for probably the twentieth time. The first time had been thirty seconds after she found out Camille was pregnant, and Richard had been honestly able to say he had no idea – naturally they hadn't thought about it yet. The problem was since that initial conversation, they still hadn't decided, and now they were on the way to the hospital and arguing about it. The stupid thing was they didn't even normally do gender at the 12 week scan, but there was a chance they might be able to tell, and as a consequence Camille was obsessed with having a definite answer before they arrived.

"I am willing to go with your decision on this," Richard told her once again.

"But you said it would help you feel more connected to the baby!" She half wailed. Yes, he had, and he really wished he hadn't. Camille had asked him if he wanted to know the sex, giving the impression that she didn't mind either way, when in reality she had her heart set on it being a surprise when the baby was born.

"I said it _might_ make me feel more connected to the baby. I don't think it is necessary, I am sure I'll cope not knowing!"

"You aren't supposed to just cope, you are supposed to be excited about it being a surprise."

"I would be excited for it to be a surprise! I am very excited just by the prospect of seeing our baby for the first time today," he tried to reassure her. And he really was excited – though also a little terrified that the scan would show up something wrong. Camille had been rather firm in telling him she would be carrying the child to term irrespective of any disabilities that might be detected, and he knew he could love any child that was theirs, so at least that was one thing they had decided ahead of time.

"Really, Camille, we could say if they offered to tell us the gender today we would rather wait until the next scan. It will be more accurate at 20 weeks anyway."

"I'm worried we _still_ won't have made up our minds by that scan!" She leaned forward, head in hands, and Richard hoped she wasn't going to be sick. The car had only just stopped smelling from the last time she had thrown up in it. "I guess that is the route we will have to take for now. God I need to pee!" She glared at him, Richard may have forced about twice the recommended amount of water down her that morning, worried that not enough would prevent them from getting a good picture.

"You can't go to the toilet until after the scan!" He reminded her as he parked up.

"Yes, I know, you told me about six times. So let's get in there before I wet myself!"

* * *

"You sure you are 12 weeks?" This was the first question the sonographer asked when she saw Camille's stomach.

"Yes, why?" Camille asked, looking distinctly nervous and suddenly grabbing Richard's hand.

The sonographer realised the effect her question had had and explained more fully, "Oh, it's nothing, you just look maybe 15 or 16. But every pregnancy has different sized bumps, we'll date the baby soon enough." She placed the transducer on her stomach, and a fuzzy black and white image appeared on the screen. "Well, pretty evident why you have a bigger bump there." She pointed towards the screen.

"Is that two babies?" Richard asked faintly. He knew the answer was going to be yes, but did want to check he wasn't hallucinating. Camille's grip on his hand got a lot tighter.

"You are indeed expecting twins, congratulations!"

"Are they sharing an amniotic sac?" Richard asked, surprising Camille.

"Nope, separate placentas as well," the sonographer told him, examining the screen.

"What does that mean?" Camille asked.

"Oh, if they were sharing a placenta or an amniotic sac we'd know they were identical twins," Richard explained. "It's good they aren't, that can cause problems sometimes during delivery." Now he was over the initial shock, he was feeling pretty smug he had read the section about twins and ultrasound scans in the book.

"So they aren't identical?"

"No they might be," the sonographer said. "They could also be fraternal though as well. Right now, this baby on the bottom here, he or she will be called Baby A for the moment and the one on top Baby B." Actually, now Richard thought about it, the way the babies appeared to be stacked on top of each other was pretty amusing. "Shall we now have a listen to the heartbeats? We'll start with Baby A."

The sonographer did something clever with the machines and suddenly the sound of a rapid heartbeat filled the room. Camille's reaction to this was to burst into tears. "Those are happy tears, right?" Richard felt the need to check.

"Yes," she sniffed. "It's just so wonderful!"

The sonographer gave her a patient smile, "A lot of women have a similar reaction. Even the Dad's tear up sometimes." Camille now turned to Richard with an accusing stare, and he felt guilty that he wasn't teary. The sonographer gave a little cough, rescuing Richard by announcing, "Time for Baby B!"

The heartbeat sounded pretty much identical to the first one, and Richard hoped that because she hadn't said anything to the contrary, they were both healthy ones. She confirmed it, "They both sound great, guys. Measurements are all indicating 12 weeks, both babies seem healthy. That will make your due date September 2nd, though with twins they'll probably be early!"

"It doesn't seem that far away," Camille said, and Richard knew what she meant. Before it had seemed like they barely had enough time to get ready for one baby, now they had two to prepare for.

"Few more things to check guys and then I'll print you off some photos. Babies aren't really in a good position for me to tell you sex at this stage, think you'll have to wait until the next scan for that." Well, that was one issue quickly glossed over.

Camille couldn't take her eyes off the screen. "How will it work with the title and stuff, if we are having twins?"

Richard would have thought it was obvious. "Oh, you know, whoever is born first will get the Dukedom and the other just a courtesy title."

"Really?"

"Yes," he said, suddenly getting a bad feeling.

"But…but isn't that a bit unfair?"

The sonographer was clearly trying not to listen, and Richard decided to aid her in that aim by lowering his voice a little, "How is it any different from two single births in a row?"

"It _is_ different!" Camille insisted. "They could be separated by minutes, not years! And..and…what if I have a caesarean! Then a surgeon would be picking the future Duke or Duchess of Grafton! How is that fair?"

That was an interesting point, but Richard really wasn't sure what Camille was asking of him. "Camille, it's a fact, I can't do anything about it, and I'm not sure what to tell you."

"Well, the fact that the Dukedom would go to the first born boy rather than girl was 'just a fact'," she wielded, and his heart sank.

"This isn't the same, Camille." She gave him a stricken look, and Richard knew he was going to give in. "Ok," he said, with a small sigh. "I'll call Edward – but I'm not guaranteeing anything!"

* * *

A/N: it seems to be becoming fandom canon that Richard and Camille have twins. Who am I to argue with fandom canon?


	5. 12 weeks and a little bit

Chapter 4: 12 weeks and a little bit

* * *

Camille wept on and off all the way back from the hospital, clutching the envelope with the scan pictures inside. His wife had always been a bit volatile, and subject to mood swings, but something about her pregnancy hormones has turned her into an anxious mess and he wasn't prepared to cope with it. It was _him_ who was supposed to be the anxious mess, not Camille, she was supposed to tell him to stop worrying and relax. Perhaps in a few weeks' time, as the hormones began to shift again, she would return to something akin to her old self. In the meantime he would just have to try to be as supportive as he could, which included making entirely pointless enquires with a Prince of England.

"Will you call him when we get in?" Camille had asked in the car, in between sobs.

"Camille, he has official engagements on Dominica all day, I don't think he'll have time to talk to me," he explained in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "But I already have a call arranged with him the day after tomorrow, so perhaps I could ask then?" Camille looked like she was going to protest that that was far too long to leave it, but before she could he gently pointed out, "It isn't like the babies are going to arrive tomorrow." She slumped back into the seat, and he took that as an acceptance of his suggestion.

* * *

Camille was quite calm for the next couple of days, pleased she could start telling people. Richard couldn't help but notice she seemed quite proud of her little bump, deliberately selecting clothes that showed it off. He wasn't sure if she had deliberately changed her gait to emphasise it more, or if it was do so with all those hormones. He hadn't really realised pregnancy went as far as to change a woman's skeletal-muscular system, and the more he read the more he was glad men didn't have to give birth.

Camille had framed the scan picture and put it up in the living room, which he thought was a little strange. In six months they would have actually baby pictures to put up, which were bound to be more attractive than a fuzzy black and white scan printout. He certainly thought he should keep them, and show it to interested parties, and he had scanned them in and emailed them to his Mother – but putting them on display seemed a step too far. But with Camille being so unstable at the moment, he wouldn't dare say such a thing, and it wasn't such a hardship to live with.

On the day he was due to call Edward, Camille woke up all wound up and moody again. She was clearly worried about what he was going to say.

"Whatever baby is born second is going to know from a very young age that they are different from their brother or sister. Even though they'll be playmates, he or she will always resent their slightly older sibling, and wonder why it wasn't them who was born first. At every official event they attend they'll be reminded of the fact they will not be inheriting the Dukedom. You have to realise, Richard, that it would only be natural for them to lash out and blame _us_ for their lack of title. As they get older it will only get worse, and all that natural inclination to rebel that comes along with teenagers will lead them to run away and become a drug addict. Eventually they'll end up dead in some crack house on Jamaica!" She told him all this over breakfast. Richard was impressed by how much detail she put into her little tale of woe. She sounded utterly convinced that this was the inevitable outcome of them having twins, where only one had a courtesy title.

The problem was, Richard already knew that there was nothing he or Edward could do, and that Camille _was_ going to be disappointed. This was hardly the first set of twins to be born in similar circumstances, and as far as he knew the disastrous picture Camille was painting hadn't actually happened. Well, perhaps there was some minor law he didn't know about that Edward would and the whole thing would be sorted…

He told Camille he was calling Edward that afternoon, but actually did so when she went off to have a lie down after breakfast because her head was hurting. He went outside so she wouldn't overhear him, because if she knew exactly what he planned to tell Edward she would probably beat him to death with the nearest heavy object.

Richard actually managed to avoid bringing the whole topic up for quite some time, but he knew he would have to eventually, and so he opened with, "Look, I know there is nothing you can do, but we've had our 12 week scan and it seems Camille is expecting twins."

"Well, you're right, there is nothing I can do about that," Edward quipped, making Richard realise he hadn't exactly explained himself. "But I can offer my congratulations. Gosh, two at once, I imagine that will be fun!"

"Right, yes, thank you. Bit of a surprise but a nice one, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, do you remember how upset Camille was when she realised that if we only had girls they wouldn't inherit the title?" Richard paused and he could practically here the penny drop on the other end of the line.

"She is upset now that only the first born will get a title?" Edward guessed correctly. "But Richard that would have been the case if you had two children anyway."

"Oh please don't think I haven't already pointed that out to her!" He said, irritation getting the better of him for a moment. He loved Camille, but on this point she was being more than a little crazy. "She is convinced it is _different_ because they are twins and that the second born will be resentful and turmoil and woe will follow."

There was a pause, before Edward said, "You certainly married a…interesting woman."

"I'm not entirely sure it is _all _her," Richard said in defence of Camille. "I do think the pregnancy has made her rather anxious. But I promised I would call you to ask if there is anything you or Her Majesty could do. I thought it might placate her somewhat, even though I realise there _is_ nothing that can be done."

"There is certainly no precedent," Edward admitted. "I mean, I could talk to my mother…"

"Oh no, don't," Richard said quickly. "Thank you, but don't, we both know what the answer will be and I would rather not disturb her after she already did us such a big favour. It's okay, I'll just have to be a bit firm and tell Camille there is no room for manoeuvre on this particular issue."

"She might, um, calm down in the next few weeks. I think the second trimester is generally the easiest of the three." Richard hoped Edward was right on that front. Thanking the Prince for his time, he hung up and resolved to face Camille…once her headache was a bit better.

* * *

Richard was surprised to find Camille was actually up and about, making herself a cup of mint tea in the kitchen and flicking through a baking book…whilst humming. He didn't think he'd ever heard her hum in the whole time he had known her. The sometimes-curse of perfect pitch told him she might have a sense of rhythm that made her good at dancing, but that didn't mean she could hold a tune. The out-of-tune humming was sort of cute though.

"Right, Camille," he said firmly.

She turned around and smiled at him sweetly, completely throwing him off. "Hello, I saw you were on the phone, did you speak to Edward early then?"

"Yes, I did, and you see…"

She interrupted him, "I was thinking when I was having a little rest that actually, it probably isn't that big a deal. I mean other royal families and aristocrats or whatever have twins and it hasn't been a problem for them, has it? I suppose the important thing is that I know _we_ will treat our children as equals, no matter who is born first, won't we?"

"Well yes, of course we will," Richard confirmed, wondering if this was really happening.

"So it would be nice if they could both have courtesy titles but I don't think it is essential. What did Edward say?"

Richard was completely stunned by her rapid change in attitude, and it took him a moment to form a reply, "Oh, um, he's afraid there is nothing can be done. It has always been the case that the first born takes the title."

"Oh well, it was worth a try. I was thinking about making these lemon cupcakes – what do you think?"

Richard thought pregnant Camille was going to be the death of him.


End file.
